Trickery and Divinity
by Serlenrhiod
Summary: Yea... Bad at Summaries. Bakura and Ryou and Yami and Marik are forced to join forces to protect from some new evil. Just read it cuz I think it's one of my better ones. REVIEW!
1. At the Peak

Trickery and Divinity: A Tomb Robber's Legacy  
  
Chapter 1: At the Peak  
  
Bakura stood poised at the peak of one of the great pyramids of Giza. The desert moon shone down on him with all of it's light, making the sand come alive with that bluish light. The desert was silent for as far as the eye could see, a treasure that no gold in any tomb could rival. And it was his. The tomb robber looked up at the pitch desert sky, his long silver hair cascading down his pale back.  
  
As hard as it was to believe, he was actually very religious. It was simply that in the life he led, his path was to be a thief. Many would mistake what he had done in the past few years as an evil act. Trying to keep the Pharaoh's soul imprisoned and the millinium items sealed away. The Pharaoh had been a tyrant, and the millinium items would have given him flesh once again.  
  
A whisper in the back of his mind said that he already had, as had the robber. One of his other lives. When he was in the unseen world, he heard whispers of many of his lives. Some from the past and some from the future. The unseen world was every time and every place. Where your dreams were literally a reality, and your thoughts could bend an entire realm to your will. It was a world of flesh as well as spirit. If he were to fall from his one legged pose atop the pyramid, he would wake up dead. His Hikari would notice that he was missing, but he could never be found.  
  
Bakura laughed softly. No mortal could enter this place safely. They would fall into oblivion, one of the four psychic plains, and be lost forever.  
  
Explanation:  
  
There are four realms, Heaven and Hell are two of them. Only the consent of God Almighty can grant you passage into either of those two. There is the world of flesh, our plain, where physicality is everything. There is the unseen world, where concentration and mental prowess mean a long life. Dragons and some people with special abilities can enter this world in their flesh and transport themselves between one point and another in time or space. Then there is oblivion. It is a realm of nothing. Oblivion is located as a thin strip between all three other plains. It must be bridged to gain access to another.  
  
Heaven  
  
Oblivion  
  
Time Plain of the Unseen World  
  
Space Plain of the Unseen World Oblivion  
  
Physical Plain  
  
Oblivion  
  
Time Plain of the Unseen World  
  
Space Plain of the Unseen World Oblivion  
  
Hell  
  
A lone tear fell down the robber's pale face. Who was he kidding? Not even his Hikari would notice he was gone. No one ever noticed him.  
  
FLASHBACK  
  
A young Bakura stood working on a rafter set up near the top of one of the great structures of the Pharaoh. His people were made to work from birth to death for the Egyptians. Suddenly one of the boards beneath his feet cracked and slid off the rickety platform, then another, and another. Soon Bakura himself was falling.  
  
"FAAATHEEEERRRRR!!!" The young boy screamed to the taller slave working beside him. As he fell, he looked upward at the man who hadn't lifted a hand to help his son. Everything went black. Bakura had vague memories of some Egyptian slave watchers coming over to him and prodded his numb body with their weapons. They too accepted him as dead. Sometime during the night, he regained conciousness and drug himself to his feet. A rage burned inside his heart. He wanted revenge on the Egyptians. For leaving for dead, for imprisoning his race, for killing his mother, and for making his father hate him.  
  
So began his life as a tomb robber. The slave masters all thought he was dead, and with his white hair, he didn't even look like an Egyptian. He had soon made his way into the Egyptian part of the city. No one noticed him. As always. The moon looked at him from over the tops of the Egyptian homes and a single tear fell down his face.  
  
END FLASHBACK  
  
The moon looked down at him from the open sky and the solitary tear was soon joined by a myriad of followers, though the Hebrew thief wasn't aware of it.  
  
".Father." he whispered softly ". I'm so sorry. I was never what you wished for. Why can't you forgive me?" The robber continued to cry and stare at the Egyptian moon.  
  
An African Eagle, to huge for real life was perched on a monstrous sand dune parallel to the pyramid where Bakura stood, arms splayed, on one foot. Yami shook his head to force a red feather from his crest from his line of sight. He could have changed into anything if he thought about it, but when he was here, he always took the form of an African Eagle with a burgundy crest.  
  
The Tomb Robber was crying, for what he did not know. The eyes of an eagle showed you more, but you could decipher no more thoughts or emotion than could a rock. With a piercing screech and a mighty downward thrust of his great wings Yami took flight, crossing right above the great pyramid that was his tomb.  
  
As he flew on, with the warm desert night surrounding him, he thought that Bakura looked much like one of the crucified thieves of his religion. Which one, however, Yami did not know. Ryou woke abruptly at 12:30 in the morning, and walked over to his window. It was strange he thought, as he looked at the dark shape flying across the night sky, that a hawk should be out at this time of night. 


	2. Through the Eyes of a Thief

Sorry about forgetting this on the first one: Me-no-own-Yu-Gi-Oh!!!  
  
Chapter 2: Through the Eyes of a Thief  
  
Ryou looked across the room at the spirit he shared a body with. He could see parts of his T.V. and the wall through the pacing shade. Bakura seemed to think that he had been thrown into the 'psychic plain' that Ryou existed on for a certain purpose. However, his Yami never really explained much to him. It didn't really matter to the schoolboy anyway. He didn't even begin to understand his Yami when he talked about 'psychic plains' and magic. Even if he didn't quite get some of his explanations, one thing he knew was that Bakura was more than a little psychotic.  
  
When he was completely honest with himself, Bakura scared the living spit out of him. The tomb robber would kill if he had to, and if he had to, he might just use Ryou's body to do it. Ryou was by nature, a quiet, polite person, but when Bakura screamed in frustration and punched the wall Ryou had to intervene. His Yami did things like this quite often, and Ryou had already received several complaints from the people that lived in the apartment above him.  
  
"Would you please stop that?!?" Ryou pleaded to his darker half, " You do damage the wall, and seeing as it is 1:00 am people will probably complain if you keep it up. Besides which, you never tell me why you pace around while normal people are trying to sleep."  
  
Bakura who had, until this point, completely ignored Ryou's lecture turned his head sharply toward his other half and shrugged one shoulder, popping out of joint and cracking the blade of his shoulder against the bone at the top of his arm like clock gears. He then followed suit with his neck and fingers. He couldn't help it really, it was a habit. Like biting nails or chewing toothpicks. According to Ryou, though, it was a good ten time as annoying. He wasn't nervous because his better half was berating him again. He was actually on the brink of tears. Thinking of his father always made him want to cry.  
  
After Bakura had nervously cracked his shoulder a third time, Ryou couldn't take it anymore.  
  
"Besides which!!! If I can't BLOODY WELL know what's making you so By-Our- Lady anxious then you will most certainly NOT make the By-Our-Lady landlord get so BLOODY angry at ME again!!! Let all the NORMAL people get some sleep!!!.BUGGER!!!"  
  
Ryou took a deep breath as the bright scarlet color slowly drained from his face and it returned to it's customary white. The British exchange student looked at his Yami with an unsure gaze held by his large, child like eyes. The whole time he had been screaming, Bakura had just stood there with wide eyes and a drawn expression on his pale face. The tomb robber hissed, not unlike a snake and strode silently across the small room until he was face to face with his Hikari.  
  
" Ryou." He whispered with more venom than a cobra "In case-Just in case you haven't noticed. You- Aren't- Normal." Ryou was scared to death. An angry tomb robber was only six inches away from him, and he had no weapon or training in the martial arts. The shorter of the two trembled with fear. There was something in the thief's eyes that spoke of regret and a sadness deeper than anything someone who had only lived one lifetime could know. And, honestly, Ryou was frightened to death by it.  
  
Bakura blinked his eyes quickly and withdrew to far wall of the room with a snakelike agility and the air of something being hunted. Ryou collapsed on the couch and gripped the chain that held the melinium ring so hard that his hand began to ache. It was a nervous habit for him. Ryou risked a glance at the tomb robber who was now looking out the window at the night sky. His hands were shaking, though for the most part Bakura seemed in control of himself.  
  
"I-I'm going out. If I'm back, ignore me. If I'm not do the same." Bakura knew that the instructions would have been followed even had he not issued them, but he liked to. It made him feel like he was in control of things. Illusions and half truths floating through the mist were all that he had. He thought to himself, that he might as well keep being fooled by the illusions that made him happy.  
  
The phantom walked down the empty street outside his Hikari's boarding house and stared up at the moon. A lone tear rolled down his face. Most people would find it disturbing that when he cried, which was seldom, he was always still. Never sobbing or jerking around like normal people, just crying. They would have found it disturbing if they had ever seen him cry. As a tear for each thought of his father fell down his cheek and onto the pavement (He liked to think that the thoughts were gone after the tears fell, but they always seemed to come back.) he was glad, for once, that no one noticed him.  
  
Bakura blinked his eyes once more and turned around. He might as well return to Ryou's home. He didn't know how long he had been walking. The sun was beginning to form a thin strip of purple half light across the horizen. Bakura turned around and began his journey home. The tomb robber took one last glance at the fading moon.  
  
" Such a pity," He mused in a barely audible voice " That people are to busy dreaming about what they will do during the next day they waste, to look at something infinitely more pleasing." 


	3. Memories

Me-No-Own-Yu-Gi-Oh! If I did, no one would watch it.  
  
Chapter 3: Memories  
  
Marik stared out across the Domino City harbor with his large lavender eyes. It was raining that day, and the whole landscape looked like fairy mists. Normal people would have thought he was a fag with mental issues if he told them that. He might have mental issues, he thought to himself, but he was definitely not a homo. What brought up the term fairy mists was the fact that he was one of the few mortals that had the ability to hop dimensions.  
  
He referred to the nothingness that lay between the astral plains as the fairy mists. He was a huge fan of the Kingdom of Landover books. There was a similar area of nothingness around the edges of that kingdom, and it was called the fairy mists. Of course he would never get a chance to explain this to anybody. He had never really trusted anyone but his sister Isis and his servant Rishid.  
  
Marik wasn't sure where Isis was. A picture of his sister flashed through his mind and Marik's eyes grew tight around the edges. It was because of him that his sister had left. The Egyptian had forced his sister to leave right after battle city. His Yami would've killed her and Rishid if he hadn't made her leave. He missed her.  
  
The blond turned his head away from the window sharply to try and escape memories of Rishid. He had tried to send Rishid away, but being as loyal a servant as could ever be found, Rishid had refused to leave Marik's side. The man had payed the ultimate price for it as well. It had not been that long ago that Marik's only true friend had been killed. The Egyptian youth remembered that experience all to clearly.  
  
Flashback  
  
The impact of the wall knocked the breath out of Marik's body. He knew that there was no way to win the battle he was fighting. His Yami was attacking him by both physical and magical means. Yami Marik's deep laugh echoed through the metal room they were in and his cat like eyes slid towards Marik's slumped figure. The evil spirit clenched his fist and jerked it sharply towards the other wall.  
  
A muffled clang sounded briefly then reverberated off the walls to sound hundreds more times. As he slid down the wall his Sennen Rod fell useless to the ground and clinked softly as it rolled away. The last small glimmer that the sixteen year old had thought was hope disappeared as he lost his grip on his thousand year item and, try as he might, could not find again.  
  
The Melineum Rod was all that had kept his soul from being scattered with the first blow that his Yami had dealt. But, he knew that even if he could regain possession of his item that it would be useless. Without concentration magic was nothing, and Marik couldn't concentrate enough to change a light bulb at the moment. In fact, it was all he could do to stay conscious.  
  
Yami Marik cackled insanely and drew a long, scythe like dagger from it's sheath at his belt. The psychotic man slowly walked toward his lighter half, if Marik could really be the better half of anyone. Marik knew that his Yami was letting him dangle. Trying to let hope worm it's way into his Hikari's heart once more so he could squash it one last time. Licking some of the blood from the corner of his mouth Marik managed to rise to unsteady knees.  
  
He wasn't going to die laying down, he would not let his pride be damaged that far. Just as his other half prepared to plunge the steel blade through his heart, a sharp noise made Marik's head turn dizzily toward the cracked door to the abandoned building. Dripping with rain Rishid dashed in and seized the Sennen Rod. What happened next, seemed to role out in slow motion.  
  
Through his blurred vision Marik watched the other two Egyptians fight. Rishid was fighting on his behalf using the Thousand Year Rod somewhat like a quarter staff to block the furious strikes of his other self. Marik watched in horror as, at a pivotal moment in the battle, his friend stumbled. Yami Marik's fist caught him in the face and, before Rishid had recovered, his knife plunged deep into the tattooed man's back.  
  
Marik screamed. Not only for his friend but because of the pain. Marik had maintained some kind of control over his friend's mind as a safety precaution. That meant that some portion of his soul was imbued in Marik. The young Egyptian was lifted to his feet by an unseen force so abruptly that even his unshakeable Yami was taken off guard by it. Every muscle in Marik's body tensed and every bone he had felt like it was about to break in two and splinter into thousands of shards. With his head tilted back, Marik screamed, a long wail that filled the night and chilled even himself to the bone.  
  
A small bluish white orb emerged from the blond hair boy's mouth and floated in the air above his head. With a sadness, Marik knew it was Rishid's soul. Though Marik was generally self serving and egotistic, he was never really cruel. Cold at times, yes, but never cruel. Knowing he would die before the hour was out, he made the decision to release all of the souls he had held captive.  
  
Marik's body was engulfed in the light cast off by the myriad of souls released from his control. He vaguely remembered seeing Arkana's soul as well as Strings' fade into the air. Soon all of the souls that were released had disappeared. All but two. Thinking he had won the fight Yami Marik licked the blood off of his knife and drew it back as a horrifying greenish lightening engulfed the crescent blade. An arrow of magic shot from his Yami's hand and Marik put a shaking arm up to shield his face, though he knew it would do him no good. But there was no pain, no final blow before everything went black one last time. When his arm fell he looked up and was astonished at what he saw.  
  
The ghostly form of a girl who Marik immediately recognized to be Tea was standing in front of the blast surrounded by a blueish glow. The girl was effortlessly holding back the force of his darker half's attack. Marik was dumbfounded. He knew that one soul couldn't hold off an attack that strong. Through bleary eyes, the Egyptian watched slowly as the forms of three other people- Joey Wheeler, Tristan Taylor, and Yugi Mutou emerged from the blue light. He had been holding a portion of Tea's soul captive but not the others. Was what she said about friendship really true?  
  
That train of thought was stopped as the form of Yugi Mutou split in two and formed the silhouette of the ancient pharaoh. Marik mumbled an incoherent word of respect and tried to rise to one knee, but to no avail. Pharaoh Yami turned his head back toward the battle and raised his arms high, in a grand manner. When he brought them down again, there was one final flare of light, his Yami's scream, and everything was quiet.  
  
The blond teenager dimly remembered the girl running over to him as soon as the light had faded, asking him if he was okay. The blue light was gone though. Marik had wondered how the four had managed to find the location phsysically. Marik remembered slurring a short sentence about how he obviously wasn't, but that pathetic attempt of ceherrance must have gotten the point across because the girl had run over to Yugi and spoken to him worriedly.  
  
The Egyptian would've cried if he'd had energy enough to do so. Rishid was dead, and he didn't even have a chance to say goodbye. He remembered being limply hauled to his feet and half carried half dragged out the door to the building. As he had turned around a faint blue light caught his eye.  
  
The tall figure of Rishid stood in the doorway to the building. Marik's throat tightened at the sight of his friend. Rishid smiled kindly  
  
"Goodbye, friend." Said the shade quietly, before fading into nothingness.  
  
"G-Goodbye-Friend." Whispered Marik.  
  
End Flashback  
  
The image of Rishid's blood spattered face flashed through Marik's mind once again, and he ran to the trashcan. After throwing up everything he had ever eaten, Marik Collapsed on the Couch only to be disturbed by a quick rap on the door. Dragging himself to his feet once again, he walked sluggishly across the apartment. He opened to door and, upon seeing his visitor, fell to one knee in reverence. "My Pharaoh." The Egyptian whispered. 


	4. A Bloody Knife

Chapter 4: A Bloody Knife  
  
Marik sat across the room Yami, his lavender gaze revealing that he wasn't really there. That was the only way he could stop thinking about Rishid. Marik shook his head slightly when the spirit of the ancient pharaoh mentioned his name in the one sided conversation further disarraying the birds nest of blond hair on his head. That was what his sister had said once. Marik's throat tightened at the thought of his sister.  
  
"Marik!" Yami snapped impatiently "Are-you-even-listening-to-me?!?" Yami knew that Marik had been through a lot lately. The man had lost his only remaining family and the one person that would ever be his friend only a few months ago. Yami had never really cared about the past present or future of those with slave blood in them, but the man could hardly help feeling sorry for Marik. He had been through a lot to only be fourteen.  
  
Marik looked in the general direction of the pharaoh with a numb gaze. He had at least managed to understand the general gist of Yami's monologue. The pharaoh sensed an evil greater than anything Marik could imagine, and he knew that the only thing that could stop it was the combined power of the mellinium items. Yami had already located the six of the seven items, possessed one, and could demand and receive access to two more. The only ones he couldn't gain control of were the rod, the ring, and the necklace.  
  
Marik would have liked things just as well had he never heard of the melinium items. The platinum hair was shaken further into his eyes as he looked cautiously at the melinum rod, propped in a corner of the room. He shuddered at the thought of the blade perched on the end of it. The young Egyptian had considered ending it all several times, using that blade. He also had scars all over his body from where he would, in a fury, try and murder himself in a much more gruesome method. Once he had almost bled to death after having done that.  
  
When the landlord had come to collect the rent, he couldn't help but see Marik, laying on the floor with his skin in ribbons. He had been sent to the hospital and then to therapy. What the nurses thought was most remarkable about his case was that, apparently, he had been awake the entire time. They had also said that when they did the basic examination, no matter how much darkness or light they applied to his vision, Marik's pupils never dialated. In fact, they stayed so small as to seem invisible. They always did that when he was frightened, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he was afraid to die.  
  
"MARIK!!!" Yami screamed, having lost his patience "Are you AWARE that I am even speaking to you?!? If you cooperate you could save lives!!! Hundreds of thousands of lives." Yami angrily noted that Marik still seemed to be lost to the world. There was only one thing that would bring him out of this state of suspended animation, and Yami knew it. " Marik. If you help me with this, you could save hundreds of people a fate like that of Rishid, and hundreds more from suffering what you have to suffer."  
  
Marik's mind had been lingering on his friends face. Before it had been spattered with blood and paled with death. Back when he actually had someone to laugh about his life with. Someone to goof off with. Someone to help him steal from the village vendors on the streets of Cairo so he wouldn't get caught. But with Yami's statement that whole world of blissful memories shattered like a window in a hurricane. The protective dams that Marik had put up to block his most painful memories broke into hundreds of shards and Rishid's pale, dead face all spattered with blood and hidden behind a mask of pain, flooded his mind.  
  
The youth's throat tightened and his eyes clamped shut. He would not cry, he would especially not cry in front of the man that could take his very soul with a snap of his fingers. Marik's whole body convulsed and brought him tumbling out of his chair and onto the floor. Unable to stop himself, he inhaled a shuddering breath. When he exhaled a choking noise filled his head, and lunged the three feet to the trash can just as he threw up everything that he had apparently not thrown up earlier.  
  
Yami frowned at the light haired slave. If the memories of his dead friend could do that to him. The slave did at least have honor, the one trait that Yami actually noticed in a human being. If he were in Egypt this kind of behavior would have been grounds for flogging or even death. When Marik slowly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned his head toward Yami, the pharaoh had no greater wish than to be somewhere else. The other man's eyes would have been alarming to anyone. The pupils were so small you could hardly see them, and they were so wide and blood shot that they didn't belong on any human. Shakily Marik picked up the melinium rod and stood to face the pharaoh.  
  
"Pharaoh." Marik addressed Yami formally "You may have the melinium rod. But I will make sure that I play no role in this. These items have ruined my life once, and I don't have the slightest intention of letting them do so again." When Marik placed the point of the knife on his neck right below the ear Yami tensed, that is, as much as a rock could tense.  
  
"Marik," Yami said cautiously as he took a slow step back and spread his hands " Are you SURE you want to do this? Don't do anything you'll regret later now." Though the ancient pharaoh didn't really care whether or not the slave boy died, his life as a leader wouldn't allow him to sit and do nothing in a situation such as this.  
  
Marik saw the look of surprise on Yami's face and laughed to himself. He knew for a fact that his eyes were disturbing at the moment. He was more frightened than he had ever been in his entire life. Even more frightened than he had been the night that Rishid died. At a final thought of his deceased friend, Marik choked on another sob and took a deep breath.  
  
"Pharaoh, I will not regret this." Marik mumbled, and before Yami could intervene ripped open the flesh from his neck to midway down his torso in one efficient slash. Yami would try to call the hospital before he could bleed to death and Marik knew that. He had to leave. Now. Throwing the bloody rod in the general vicinity of the pharaoh he stumbled for the door. Why was he having so much trouble with the door knob?  
  
As Marik stumbled onto the stairway into the rain he ran straight into a girl. He knew her, but couldn't place a name. She had been with him before when he was in need. Why couldn't he remember?!? As he stumbled down the stairs and his feet hit the level ground of the sidewalk her arms steadied him and kept him from falling into the street.  
  
Tea had been about to open the door to Marik's house. She had seen Yugi go in and was about to ring the bell, when Marik had stumbled out the door soaked in blood. She'd had no other choice but to catch him. If she hadn't have, he would've fallen into the road. Could Yugi have done this to him? Te'a was sure Yugi would never hurt a fly. but Yami was another person altogether.  
  
Marik tried to twist away from the grip that was supporting him. He would rather fall than be held up by someone else. Why was he even fighting? He didn't want to fight any more. He WANTED to welcome the grip that held him safe, but his foolish pride wouldn't let him. He tilted his head so he could speak to the girl that held him from toppling over or stumbling drunkenly into the road.  
  
".Thank you." He whispered. He had never thought he would say that to anyone, so why did he say it to this girl he couldn't even place a name to?  
  
Te'a looked up in horror toward the doorway of Marik's apartment as the body of the Egyptian went limp in her arms, to see Yugi standing there, covered in blood and holding the murder weapon-Marik's own melinium rod. 


	5. Chariot of Fire

Chapter Five: Chariot of Fire  
  
Marik's vision blurred as he opened his eyes to see the same girl standing over him. Why couldn't he place a name with that face. Propping himself up on his good elbow he stared at her, trying to remember just who she was. Her face seemed so warm and caring, two qualities he had sold away long ago.  
  
" Marik! You're finally awake!" Te'a was truly happy that Marik was awake. He had been asleep for almost two days straight. No one was really sure that he would wake up again, even the spirit of the ring. Bakura was apparently not as cold hearted as he would like to believe because he had healed Marik using some ancient ritual.  
  
Te'a was also happy to see that Marik's eyes were normal again. Two days ago when she had stumbled onto him in the street she had been horrified. With the pupils only as big as a pinprick and the outer shell of lavender had been lurid and pale with fever. She had been so afraid when she saw him, so afraid he would die.  
  
" Hey, don't cry! Nothing's wrong! Besides which, where are we?" Marik said in his sharp voice. He really didn't want her to cry, he wanted anything but that, and wondered why.  
  
Te'a started when she realized she had been crying and wiped a stray tear off her cheek. She laughed and tried to look as cheery as she could.  
  
" We're at Ryou's house. Yugi wanted to stay too, but his grandpa needed him at the shop." Te'a told Marik. He wouldn't have chosen the tomb robber's home, but he supposed it was his only choice. The Egyptian was, however, devoutly glad that the pharaoh had decided to leave. Wiping stray strands of golden hair out of his face, Marik swung his feet over the side of the bed he was in. He had to get home. Why was he so tongue tied around this girl?!? He had never been a shy person at all.  
  
Te'a blushed bright red when Marik stood up and she realized that he had no shirt on. It only made sense that he wouldn't. The one he was wearing had been torn to ribbons during his attempt at suicide. She wished he hadn't stood up. Ryou and Bakura were both fast asleep and Marik was having a hard time just standing there. Not like he would show it though, Marik never showed his emotions or feelings. She could tell he was in no condition to be walking around, every few seconds his muscles would tense to keep from toppling over.  
  
The Egyptian's head spun when he rose to his feet and he resisted the urge to sit back down. He needed to leave. He felt uncomfortable being in someone else's home. Slowly making his way toward the door, Marik thought about the melinium rod. He felt odd. Almost lost, without it. But it had caused him so much pain that he was glad to be rid of it no matter what the price.  
  
The warm air hit his face in fast gusts so that it was confusing as to whether or not the weather was enjoyable as soon as he opened the door. Walking down the steps he squinted up at the turbulent sky and a chill passed through him. Marik wanted to believe that it was because of his injuries or the presence of spirits, but he had been dealing in magic long enough to know that that wasn't the case. There was something much greater than that and the youth didn't want to know what.  
  
Marik hadn't been twelve steps when he became aware of another presence. He turned around and saw that same girl again. Looking up the street at her figure against a sun that had just appeared from behind the clouds the tanned figure recoiled as if struck.  
  
Her body was illumined in the pale light so that it shone with a seraphic radience. Where the clouds were scattering the blue sky spread in two huge wings that sprawled into forever. Before she could see him, Marik tripped more than ducked into an alleyway.  
  
Flashback  
  
Marik was eleven. His father had kept him and his sister isolated in a tomb for their entire lives, but now he was free. Breathing his first breath of free air, Marik stood tall and looked to the horizen. The child's heart nearly stopped when he saw the visage before him.  
  
A woman of medium height with brown hair stood at the top of the highest sand dune as far as the eye could see. She turned her head toward him in a manner that spoke of sadness and clasped her hands to her heart. With this, two huge, sky blue wings unfurled behind her. Framed by the golden Egyptian sun, Marik knew that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. With that, the angel, for that is what Marik assumed the creature was, gave a gigantic down swoop of the wings and lifted into the sky.  
  
Riding atop the cyclone of sand her wings had created and smoldering like an ember before the desert sun, the holy being later reminded Marik of a story in the Christian religion. He later converted to Christianity and called the being Prophet, after Elijah who ascended to Heaven in the same manner.  
  
End Flashback  
  
Prophet. Marik mulled the word over and over in his mind until sleep pulled it into it's emotionless void. 


	6. A meeting

Chapter Six: A Meeting  
  
Bakura had been crouched atop a trash can not two feet away from the strange looking youth for hours, waiting for him to wake up. What he had to say to him was of the utmost importance. Yami was trying to save the world, yes. And there WAS an evil greater than anything the tomb robber had ever seen approaching fast. What everyone else failed to see, however, was that this was another way for the Pharaoh to gain power again. And, since no one paid him any attention-No one would notice.  
  
When Marik woke he shook his hair sleepily out of his eyes. Using the wall to stand up he prepared to walk the rest of the way to his house. The Egyptian didn't even notice the cold sensation that he always felt when another spirit neared his own. Thusly, he almost jumped out of his skin when the spirit of the ring slid silently up to him.  
  
"Boo." Bakura whispered. Just this was enough to scare Marik into whirling around, holding up some imaginary weapon with which he was to defend himself. Laughing almost maniacly Bakura nearly lost his balance and fell over.  
  
"GYAAHK! Don't DO that you filthy spirit!!!" Marik snapped at the ancient thief. Bakura was one of the only people in the world who seemed to be immune to his glares, and this was not a detail that Marik found particularly pleasing. He didn't particularly enjoy the company of the spirit. Knowing that Bakura had performed the ritual that saved his life didn't help either. He felt like he owed the man something.  
  
Recovering, Bakura put on a more serious manner. As much as he loathed conversation with the living, he had to tell Marik what Yami was up to. As the possessor of the Melinium Rod he would be a valuble weapon. The fact that he was also one of the only mortals to use magic was interesting as well. Still, talking to someone of flesh and blood was never a pleasant ordeal for Bakura. He had been a tomb robber for as long as he could remember, preferring to steal from the dead than live amongst the living.  
  
"Marik." Bakura hissed. He hadn't meant for it to sound that way, but it was the natural tone of his voice. " I'm guessing Yami told you about his plan to defeat this 'new evil'-Yes?" Judging by the puzzled look on the mortal's face he had not. " He needs all the magic he can gather. Once he finds a significant amount of people with ability, he will pick the strongest and they will be flown to wherever their particular magic is the strongest. After that, they will all use their different abilities to open portals trough oblivion, and into the world of dreams. There, this 'evil' will be bound again before it can gnaw through to physicality. Do you understand, or would you prefer a written copy?"  
  
Marik was shocked at the speed with which the Tomb Robber delivered this speech. He nodded his head vaguely and turned to walk out the alleyway when the spirit's sharp voice caught him as surely as a vice.  
  
" I didn't explain the catch. Yami is only doing this for two reasons. To save his own hide, and to gain power." Marik turned to walk away again, apparently giving no consideration to the matter. " Marik, Do you REALIZE that if that man gains power, he will most likely bring down civilization as you know it? Nevermind the fact that you will be one of the first ones put to death."  
  
Marik's eyes glinted dimly in the fading light of the day. Did the tomb robber honestly think that Marik would help him? Marik didn't really care either way. His lip brought itself into a wolf like snarl as he replied.  
  
" Thief, Since when have I cared about my life? Since when have I cared about 'civilization as we know it'? Since when has ' civilization as we know it' ever cared about me? Is this mission dangerous?" Marik's eyebrows arched hopefully. In reply, the robber gave him a look that said something along the lines of ' If you happen to be dumb enough to ask a question that obvious, you might be better off not participating.'  
  
If Marik wouldn't have to live through the aftermath of whatever was going on, he would surely go along on this expedition.  
  
" Thief, I do not think that this alleyway would be the best place to discuss these matters. The wall's have ears. Come to my house and tell me your plan in more detail." Before Marik could make it back onto the sidewalk, Bakura hit him in the head with a swift hand.  
  
" If I must be seen with the likes of you," Said the robber with distaste "At least have the decency to be properly clothed. You look strange enough anyway." With this he brought out from behind his back a T-shirt and handed it to Marik who was, for the first time, realizing that he still hadn't gotten a shirt to replace the bloodstained shreds that were left of his former one.  
  
"Says the hologram." Marik retorted sarcastically. Ripping the tags off of the shirt quickly he arched an eyebrow at the white haired man beside him. Remembering the latter's former profession, Marik quickly deducted that he didn't owe the other man anything. Walking home, he prayed that no one had seen the blood spattered walls and carpet of his apartment and called the police. again. 


	7. Wonder

Chapter Seven: Wonder  
  
Marik's prayers had not been answered. His head throbbed with pain when he realized that there was a full scale murder investigation going on inside his apartment. The police had been there within hours of his dissapearence, he knew that meant that the neighbors had been questioned. Since Marik had not changed his residence after his Yami had been destroyed, they people living near him reported that he was violent and touched in the head.  
  
The 'accursed neighbors' as Marik thought of them had also given the police a description of the Egyptian. This being as it was, he was handcuffed immediately and the tomb robber soon after. Marik waved hello to his usual police officer and walked along silently behind one named Joe. He was usually in the labs, so it was definitely a murder investigation.  
  
Marik and the robber, who had switched with his hikari as they were being interrogated, were put in a joint cell number 888. Marik's headache had got nothing but progressively worse, and Ryou was scared of his own shadow. Marik looked down the hallway. He was in a part of the prison he hadn't seen before, which was unusual for him.  
  
Clutching his forehead he looked over at Ryou with squinted eyes. That stupid boy was even more scared than normal. Looking again Marik realized that it was not the boy, but the robber who was in control. Marik whirled around to see a tall man with a key opening the door to their cell. There was something strange about him though. He wasn't in uniform. And the key was glowing.  
  
Before Marik could say anything the man walked over to him and put the strange key to his forehead to pry into his very soul. The face of the Egyptian, with his blank eyes, and white turban horrified Marik. Then everything disappeared in a flash of light, and he knew no more.  
  
Bakura inwardly shook with fear but showed nothing. This man was Shadi, the guardian of the seven melinium items. He was the one who made sure that they didn't fall into the wrong hands, and severed the hands that didn't hold them wisely. Bakura had stolen Pegasus' melinium eye at Duelist Kingdom but, having been a thief in his past lives, had escaped Shadi's persecution. Now there was nowhere to hide, and his deeds would finally catch up with him.  
  
When the man in white robes released Marik's throat he tumbled to the floor wheezing and coughing. The glow of the key subsided and he turned his gaze toward the thief.  
  
"You, robber." He addressed Bakura formally " You have committed many crimes in the past, enough to warrant a thousand deaths." The ancient spirit flinched as the other Egyptian said those words. This was it. He would die at last. The great thief whose head had a bounty greater than anyone could fathom, would be slain by a guardian of the tombs who sought nothing but justice.  
  
Just as Bakura was expecting a final word of advice and the searing pain of a knife through the heart, he looked up to find the other man using his hands to open a portal in space. It would take whoever walked through it to another place, time, or even dimension.  
  
"But-" said Shadi in his heavily accented voice " There is still a way to redeem your self. Will you take that responsibility?" Bakura jerked his head in what could be called a nod and sat there, to afraid to even move. He knew what he had to do. Standing up the tomb robber turned toward the choking Marik. That man's spirit would almost certainly be reincarnated the old fashioned way, rather than trapped for a mellinea. Certain souls had a strength that warranted that. It was a strength Bakura could only hope he would have.  
  
"Stop." Shadi commanded as Bakura started to hurl himself into the darkness. " You do not yet know what you must do. Upon reaching the other side of the gateway you must find your elemental spirit. Afterwards you must bring a portion of it to the meeting of the forces. At the peak of time and space the spirits will be brought forth to fight with us the final battle. Now GO! For redemption, for sacrifice, and under the order of the phoenix I command you LEAVE!"  
  
With that Bakura hurled himself through the portal, his white hair outlined sharply against the pitch of the abyss. Closing his eyes tightly his spirit sped through nothing as fast as it could, hurtling by thousands of would-be exits every second until, abrubtly- it stopped.  
  
The exit loomed before him, a vacuum within the void, a flame within a fire. His body hit the ground with a loud thump. The smell of the earth floated up to his nostrils. Standing the robber looked about himself almost cautiously. He couldn't believe what met his eyes. Whereas he was almost expecting to be dumped into Hell, Bakura found himself in a paradise to beautiful for words.  
  
Surrounding him in a never ending vigil, trees of an ancient realm watched over him with a silent stoicism unknown to man, their green leaves singing the forgotten songs of his fathers and theirs before them. Bakura gazed through the openings in the leaves at an unpolluted sky filled with stars that would shine forever. With the age old oaks surrounding him and the silver clad beeches to watch his back, for once in his five thousand year existence, Bakura felt at peace and at home.  
  
Walking with an instinctive reverence through the part of the forest that not even creatures traveled, he came to a creek. Matrimony by name, the waters babbled of an age when nymphs and dryads roamed the lands and magic was commonplace. Before man claimed himself superior and began to hack and burn the forests. The sliver moon shone down on the waters with a holy light. The air smelled of fresh flowers, and on his rocky perch at the edge of the creek, colorful vines decorated the robber's vision.  
  
The babble of the creek played backup to the chirping rhythm of the insects and the melody of the leaves. Occasionally the flapping wings of a bat would signal a crescendo to the wonderful music. Looking up through the break in the virgin forest caused by the creek to see the moon, leading the invisible orchestra in it's wondrous melody. It was something that cannot b described, something from a fairytale of the old days, when the ancient ones were young and the Earth was filled with magic and joye'de ' vivre.  
  
Even to his thief's ears the small disturbance in the water was almost inaudible. Turning around slowly on the rock outcropping so as not to lose his balance, Bakura's eyes grew wide with and emotion that he could not place. A deer stood in front of him, slender ankles covered with the crystal water. Almost as tall as the thief was, the rack on it's head spread far to either side of an alert face with piercing eyes.  
  
Bakura would've flinched had he not been paralyzed by the gaze of the stag. The muscles in the beautiful creature's neck rippled, and his flanks tensed as he started to canter forward. The hart stopped only a hair's breadth away from the ancient tomb robber.  
  
He had been the silent guardian of the forest for as long as history could account for, and he was almost always alone. Through the melinia he had watched the sprawling forest be diminished to just a few hundred acres. He had seen the boar be killed, and the bear hunted down. He had watched the wolf retreat to the mountains from which their fathers came, and his own kin be slaughtered at the hands of two legged demons that jeered and hacked away at the forest. Now he had been sent this one. This white haired savior of sorts, to battle by his side.  
  
Bakura's hands twitched at his sides. Something was beckoning him, begging him. It couldn't be heard or felt, but it was there as surely as he was. Slowly he began to hum a strange melody, then singing it without words. It was a haunting sound, both horrifying and beautiful at the same time. It would bring tears to any eyes, and spoke of a sadness that would never end and an anger that could never be quelled. The tomb robber's song filled the night and the trees' limbs began to sway in an arrhythmic dance to his voice.  
  
Ryou watched in amazement at the scene unfolding before him from his own mind. He had never seen anything so beautiful and would never see anything to compare. As he reflected on it later, he remembered seeing small shapes dart in and out of the roots of trees. They may have been nymphs, awakened from an eternity of slumber by his Yami's song. Nymphs were amongst the first creatures to walk the planet. Back when every grain of sand on the ground was brimming with a life and power and joy of it's own-- something that was eventually known as magic-and words were unnecessary. Dance and song were used to communicate, and everything was pure. With the coming of the age of men, the Nymphs, Dryads, Merrs, Faeries, and all other forms of the ancient life mysteriously disappeared. Ryou didn't know this, but his Yami did.  
  
Bakura blinked fiercely against the memories that were held within the ancient forest. The memories that were now his to guard, along with the haunting chorus that was the Earth.  
  
Ryou watched his Yami in the way a small child watches a strange animal that they try to show compassion to before an adult jerks them back and shoos away the creature. He watched his Yami do something he had never seen him do before-cry.  
  
As the pain and sadness of the memories flooded through Bakura-the betrayal of men, and the mindless urge to build cities, just to kill all that is green and good in the world-and it made him cry. The robber's shoulders shook violently as he shakily kneeled before the creature of Fae, as a knight would before his king, and for the first time in over five thousand years, Bakura knew what he was meant to do. 


	8. Mystic Voices

Chapter Eight: Mystic Voices  
  
Marik put his arms up in front of his face as he was shoved through a portal that seemed to consume all light. He knew that the strange man in his cell possessed at least one of the mellinium items. Expecting some hellish dimension, the teen stumbled into his own blood soaked apartment. Blinking rapidly Marik looked around the pitch darkness that was his home.  
  
Alerted by a slight noise in the corner of the room nearest the door, Marik spun around as quick as he could to see the spiked hair of the Pharaoh. Kneeling on one knee to the ancient king, the corner of the Egyptian's eye twitched rapidly. Marik hated the man, and subconsciously blamed him for everything he had lost. His empire, slaves, friends, and family were all gone because of that worthless pharaoh.  
  
"Rise, slave." Came Yami's deep voice from the void. "If you have any sort of intelligence, you already know that your abilities are needed in the battle that we are fighting." Yami wove careful strands of spirit and mage fire into a void spell to his left. As much as he dispised those of low blood, Marik was extremely gifted. The boy didn't even require a talisman to work mage magic. Ability like that hadn't been found for hundreds of years.  
  
Not able to contain his rage any longer Marik stood slowly, looking as if he could barely stand, which was almost true. His head was killing him, but he would never show the pain. With the moonlight from his window illuminating his thin sillouhette he looked like a spirit that had managed to claw it's way up the banks of the river styx and back into the mortal world.  
  
"We? Since when have WE been fighting the same fight?" The blonde's words slid through the air, denying that a physical being had spoken them. " WE didn't kill my father, WE didn't tear my soul in two, WE didn't murder Rishid and cause me to lose Isis!!! And, quite honestly Pharaoh, I don't think that WE will ever fight on the same side." As Marik finished he turned toward the window and tried to suppress the pain in his head.  
  
Yami breathed a sigh of relief as Marik turned away from him. He had been scared for a minute, scared for his life. The younger Egyptian couldn't have nearly enough experience or strength to defeat Yami in a fight, but there was something in the way he spoke that would chill anyone to the bone.  
  
"MARIK!!!" The Pharaoh boomed as the void spell was completed. Through the hole in the fabric of time and space, you could see the pyramids of Egypt bathed in moonlight. "You can't deny your past forever!!! But you can make up for it!!! Your sister still lives Marik. I assure you. But you MUST follow me, and cooperate if you want to live to see her again!!!" Screamed the Pharaoh before he jumped through the hole and onto the landscape of Egypt.  
  
His sister was alive. The thought stunned Marik. He had convinced himself that she was dead. He had known it, and it had crushed him inside. Isis was alive, and he had a cause to live once more. Without a second thought he leaped through the hole in the air, landed adeptly on the sands, and turned to face the Pharaoh in one snakelike movement. Feeling more confident on his home turf, the blonde Egyptian stood tall.  
  
"What is it that you require I do ALMIGHTY PHARAOH?" Said the slave with obvious sarcasm. Of course Yami had ordered the pyramids built, but Marik had grown up in them. There wasn't a secret inside or out that he did not know about those great structures.  
  
"You forget yourself slave" Stated the Pharaoh. He had been lenient so far, but a slave simply did not behave this way toward his master. "I know what you are thinking. This is my home as well, and I know it a good lot better than you do." Yami smirked inwardly at the arched eyebrow of the slave, daring Yami to find one thing that was unknown to him. That would have warranted a beating in the old times, but it was the twentieth century, and there were no whips or flails about.  
  
Yami simply walked over to a spot in the sand about thirty feet away from the pyramid, all the while followed by the shadowy form of Marik. The young man reminded Yami of a dog that was unsure on whether to faun over his master or bite his heels. and unable to do either for fear of being scolded.  
  
"Slave!" Yami called sharply. Marik sneered at the shorter man in the darkness, his moonlit form drifting next to Yami's. "Translate this!" Commanded the Pharaoh as he pointed to a small stone plaque that had been uncovered in the sand.  
  
Marik hesitated. He hadn't known that this was here, and he was sure he knew everything about the desert surrounding the great pyramids. Another reason for his stalling was that he had never seen anything quite like the script on this plaque before. It appeared to be some form of Persian. Mesopotamian and probably so ancient as to be in Hammurrabi's original script. At a glare from the Pharaoh he began his soft reading of the script.  
  
In Arabic it was a song and Marik, assuming Yami knew at least fragments of that tongue, began to chant out the rhythm. About halfway through the script Yami interrupted.  
  
"Slave! Time is of the essence! Read faster if you want to live to see your sister!" Marik picked up the speed of his incantation until the words were almost indistinguishable because, for the first time in years, he actually wanted to live.  
  
No sooner than he had finished the last syllable of the odd song than a light flashed brilliantly in the desert night, and the sands shook so hard that even Marik lost his balance. A glowing rift appeared at the base of the plaque and spread out in opposite directions along the desert horizen.  
  
Marik stood horrified as two creatures, older than the living Earth herself emerged. Violent shrieks pierced the dry air and huge wings flapped, shedding sand and sediment all around. A gigantic void ripped through the air with a sound lost among the tumult of the two creatures emerging from the desert sands and engulfed Marik, the unshakable Yami, and the Desert for miles around.  
  
Isis Ishtal stood on the edge of a drop off. Inhaling the fresh air of the Blue Ridge Parkway she began to hum. Softly at first, then growing in volume until her song merged with the lifebeat of the Earth around her. Then, slowly she began to dance in the way that the wild had taught her. She had never known civilization, she had never been human.  
  
What she was, was the present. She was the Earth as it was her. The rocks beneath her feet would not let her fall as her rhythmic pattern carried her across them. The thin air of the mountains rang with the cries of birds, the growling of the bear, and the unmistakable wail of the wolves, and the song she sang could not be separated from it. After a short amount of time, or an eternity, she stopped on a rocky outcropping over a gorge in the mountain side.  
  
The correct way to put it would be that Isis slowed. For, to the Earth, there is no such thing as time. Only day, night, and the seasons. And the living Earth never stops in intirety, for no matter how still you may see the forest, you have simply to listen to her heartbeat to realize the life around you.  
  
Panting, Isis closed her eyes. She had known for some time that her brother was in danger, but this was the first time the Earth had told her that she was as well. When Isis opened her eyes, she saw nothing. Literally nothing. For as far as the eye could see, there was only a bluish white mist, so thick that she couldn't see her own hand. Whereas most people would have panicked had this happened, Isis sat there, perfectly still.  
  
The mountains had weather that could change dramatically in just seconds. The mist would dissappate in about five minutes.  
  
Suddenly, a wolf howl not far to her right sounded. Then one to her left. Then another, and another. Soon the whole sky was filled with the mournful howls of the pack Avalon rolling off the mist. Pack Avalon was called such because, the Alpha couple happened to be introduced from Great Britain. The male was a gigantic, snow white canine as beautiful and terrible as the dawn. His female was an equally humongous black wolf as fierce and stoic as the night.  
  
Isis nearly stopped breathing. The heavy mountain mist cut off all vision, but it did nothing to muffle sound. That was why Isis knew not to move at all as an unknown creature approached her. 


	9. The Final Gathering

Chapter Nine: The Final Gathering  
  
Malik's eyes opened slowly. He could tell from the unnatural half-light exactly where he was. The unseen world, Tel Aran Rhiod, The World of Dreams-any of hundreds of names. He hadn't been here in what seemed like forever, not since his sole had been ripped in two. Not since he had lost everything. Looking over at the Pharaoh with lurid eyes, Malik's shoulders shuddered with each breath.  
  
Standing before them were two creatures from the time of Faeries. Proud and fierce, with gleaming eyes that made vocalization unnecessary. These were the two chosen to awaken their spirits. The two before them had been chosen to awaken the long dead souls of Faery long before time began.  
  
Malik's eyes were locked on one of the two strange beings. Mot because it was more magnificent than the other, but because his soul was called to it. His life was bound to it's. Woven together so surely that it could never be separated, save in death. The creature Malik's gaze was fixed on was the great Dragon.  
  
He had been called many things. Death Carrier, The Angel of Death, Fury, Vengeance, Anger. No one ever knowing his true name. The great serpent's scales glowed a black darker than anything anyone could imagine, gathering in all the pale light around him. His spirit had lived as long as the Earth had, he had wrestled Ra daily, misnamed a god by the Pagans of ancient Egypt, watched his kin be hunted like animals, then passed out of existence with what remained of his kind. And in all this time he had never been fulfilled. It was the curse layed upon Dragons when Man was created.  
  
"Forever bound to me, gaze locked eye to eye."  
"Fleeing not to the horizen,"  
"Come my soul, and complete my heart."  
"For without another I shall never know my part."  
"Come now to me, my life, my breath,"  
"For when one departs, the other shall face his death."  
  
A dragon's life thread is unique to any other. It is woven with a separate soul from the point of it's birth and they are parted only in death. The great black snake had waited centuries for it's soul to be complete, and it now was. With a flap of his enormous wings, the dragon threw back his horned head and reared up on his hind legs, issuing a booming cough that seemed to contain everything that needed to be said.  
  
Malik slowly stood. The fluid, dancelike movements of the dragon beckoned Malik forward. From the glistening horns on his massive head to the smooth black claws and muscle lined flanks all the way to the serpentine tail, the dragon was a perfect sculpture, and Malik had never seen anything so beautiful. He walked shakily toward the ancient beast. As he settled down on his feet again, the dragon turned a large red eye on Malik, and locked his gaze there.  
  
Screaming, Malik fell to his knees. He had seen a flash of the dragon's life. Again it happened, again. Clutching his head in both hands, Malik sat there with his elbows on his knees, and tears smearing his face for what seemed like hours. Jerkily, he turned his head toward the great creature. He was now that creature and it was him. There souls had been bound.  
  
Malik mumbled something inaudible to any but the dragon. Trying hard to stay conscious he said, in speech almost to slurred to be understood the one word which the great dragon had waited eons to hear. His name.  
  
"..orith..."  
  
Yami stood in a mix between shock and interest. He didn't really care what happened to Malik. After all, the younger Egyptian was of slave blood. Up until Malik screamed, the Pharaoh had been watching the other creature. Expecting Malik to walk up to it at any moment. He was sure that his soul had been bound to the dragon. It had to be, the dragon was a creature for those with the hearts of kings and heroes, and Yami knew that he qualified as both.  
  
Just as he was about to walk over to the dragon, a soft stir of the air made him turn his head. Looming before him was a gryffon. With the head, wings, and feet of an eagle along with the body of a lion, the gryffon mesmerized him. Flapping it's wings slowly, the moonlight reflected off the fur of the wondrous creature. Each wisp of feather was coriographed perfectly.  
  
Turning his head the proud animal opened it's beak to emit a shrill, pleading, cry, as if to say: "Come see how glorious I am. I was summoned by you. I am Glory, come pay your respects." With the closing of the metallic looking beak, Yami's heart sank. If this creature was meant for him, that meant that the Dragon had chosen a slave to be it's rider. That was impossible! There was no way that Malik could be of more honor or nobility than a Pharaoh! This was an outrage, and one that could not be remedied. Yami knew this. The spirit knew that he couldn't alter fate, and anger grew inside of him as the impact of what had happened sat in.  
  
Isis stared straight ahead as she traveled through oblivion. The apearance of Shadi had only confirmed her earlier suspicions. The barrier was breaking again, it had only happened once before, before Arthur had thought up civil law, before Greek fire had been lost. In the time of transition between the ages of magic and men, there had been a woman named Pandora. Her foolishness had lead to a breach of good and evil, and the same breach was about to be made again.  
  
Shadi looked silently toward Isis, his strikingly blue eyes taking in her every feature. As she turned her eyes to meet his, the guardian immediately looked away. He didn't have a romantic interest in Isis, but rather a psychological one. After the mellinium items had found their owners, Shadi had had no cause to continue guarding the tombs. It turned out that psychology was his profession of choice, and Isis was an interesting specimen.  
  
It did not phase either of them when they entered the portal to the unseen world. Stepping through, Isis took in her surroundings. They were in a desert, but somewhere in southern Africa, not Egypt. The sky was a swirling mass of black and grey clouds that seemed distant from the Earth. Not in physical distance, but spiritually, and the air was so taught and full of tension that Isis feared the place would rip in two.  
  
"This is where the pattern of time is thinnest, where chaos fights with all it's force to break through. You are smart, so I need not tell you that it soon will." Shadi's heavily accented voice seemed almost muted by the silence. "They come."  
  
Isis turned around to see two gigantic shapes hurling themselves toward her at top speed. When she turned back around, Isis was surprised to find that Shadi was gone. About three feet away from where he stood, a white haired man stumbled into the unseen world, looking both surprised and ready for whatever might happen.  
  
Bakura's eyes darted madly. He knew that he had to be here, but he had no idea what he was supposed to do. His other self wasn't as composed as he was, practically crying. The air in this place had an odd feel to it, and the tomb robber wasn't soothed by the fact that Yami and Marik were speeding toward him. Isis was ther as well, and would side with Marik in a heartbeat should a conflict arise. Despite all this, the tomb robber stayed, because of a sense of duty and honor that few thieves possess. His father had honored those traits, and perhaps that is why he had retained them.  
  
Tea yawned and sat up in her bed. She couldn't seem to get to sleep. For some reason she felt watched. Slowly, the door to her room creaked open, and all Tea could do was sit there as a man dressed in white robes glided through the doorway. Something about him was vaguely familiar, but the girl could place her finger on it.  
  
"I am sorry milady, but there is no time to explain." Shadi whispered as her grabbed the terrified girl's hand and ushered her through a void in the air.  
  
Malik's body slumped as he held to the horns of the great dragon for dear life. He looked over at the Pharaoh, who had apparently not been through the same ritual that he had. Ra, his head hurt. Malik barely noticed that Orith was descending, and at first, his vision was so blurred he could hardly recognize his sister.  
  
Isis stood in shock for a moment before running up and half hugging, half catching her brother as he slid off the great dragon. After she released him, Isis absorbed the whole of the scene. The dragon, the gryffon, the tomb robber, and her little brother. She was elated to see him, and he her, if less enthusiastic.  
  
Isis' lips twitched downward momentarily at the expression on Malik's face. It was joyful, pained, sad, and horrified all in one. She hated seeing him like this, and it was all she could do not to cry. Smiling once again Isis spoke.  
  
"Little brother, do not be sad. Do not be frightened. I am here and you are here and that is all that matters."  
  
Bakura wanted to cry. Never having a real family, these things always made him remember what he had missed, what made people human, and what distanced him from humanity. All he had ever wanted was love, and a family--- things that the Egyptian could never find. Bakura had searched for five thousand years, and whether he dug up a peasant's tombstone or searched through a king's mosoleum, there was never anything there to comfort him. The gold had helped feed him and the jewelry had kept a shirt on his back, but the robber was never quite quick enough to grab the spirit, and caring that rose from the turned Earth.  
  
Marik shut his eyes against the burning sensation behind them. He couldn't let anyone see him cry, not even his sister. He had loved her more than his own life. Isis had been the only family the man had ever really had, excluding the deceased Rishid. When she had left on that plane, the straws that were left of his life had burned. Malik hadn't wanted to live any longer, but something had always kept him alive. At the moment his sister met him, Malik knew that God had kept him alive to show him that not all was lost, and now he was free of all that tied him to life.  
  
Tea felt like her heart was about to stop. Was she dreaming? Who was this man? He had said something about Pandora's box and her being the one to close it, but none of it made any sense to her. Perhaps she was simply going crazy. Her circular thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she was suddenly transported from the endless and suffocating blackness into a desert plain. The air felt like it was about to erupt with electricity. The first thing that she noticed was Bakura's white hair. While she was still trying to figure out why he was there, Tea's eyes fell on Malik. She had been eager to see him ever since that night at Ryou's, she had been worried.  
  
Just as she was about to run over to the young Egyptian, to try and comfort him, a noise from behind altered her attention. Malik was holding to the shoulder of some monstrous creature just to keep standing, and his eyes were that horrifying pool of lavender that she had seen before.  
  
The noise sounded like a huge canvas being ripped, and it ingulfed everything. There was no longer touch or taste or smell, and sight was barely needed. There was nothing but the noise, so loud that it gave every thing an odd silence to it. It swallowed the wind, and made every thing seem to be part of a curtain of solid gray mist. Just as the wail of the banshees had reached the point of madness it stopped.  
  
Everything was silent, every breath was a thunderstorm. Out of the dust that was brought about by the screeching, slowly materialized seven shapes. Before Tea could run from them, they had surrounded her completely. Through the clearing dust, she could make out an openmouthed Malik and the outline of Yami's strange mount. Out of the abyss, Shadi's strange voice screamed.  
  
"Rally defender's of hope! Defend your lives and annihilate these spirits of Abbadon!!!" Followed by a shrill war screech. 


	10. The Last Battle

Chapter Ten: The Last Battle  
  
The seven demons that formed from the mist were more horrible than anything that Malik had ever seen. One resembled a gray wolf, but had two heads and a man's style of walking. The strange creature was also the size of a large horse. Another had the same form as Orith in it's body, but it lacked the mystic wonder of the black dragon. This demon was scaled green and had more heads than could be counted. Another resembled a horse in some demented way, but it's teeth were long and sharp, and entrails hung from gashes in the bizarre animal's stomach to drag in the dust. A large frog sat on the field of battle, it's skin literally crawling with snakes and rats and all manner of unpleasant life. Occasionally a rat would stick out of a pore in the animals flesh, having nearly escaped. Insects and lizards poured from the disgusting animal's mouth.  
  
Another of the seven demons of Hell was shaped like a bird. Shrouded in mist and fog cold enough to chill blood, from a distance this demon looked proud and beautiful, but in actuality was covered in lesions and sores. To the left of the bird demon there was one encased in flames, it's charred and blackened shape seeming to lean out towards the sides of it's globe, only to be brought crashing back to the center. The final demon floated above the ground with a slumped stature. It's hairy, vaguely human, form possessed elongated arms with disjointed fingers that were tipped with curling and dirty claws. Blood covered teeth three inches long descended from a mouth that led straight into a sloping forehead, the nose forgotten in it's marred complexion. Red, feral, eyes peered from beneath eyebrows that nearly covered them. The shortened legs and twisted spine only succeded in making the creature even more horrifying.  
  
The young Egyptian nearly fell down with fright. What were these things? Looking over at Shadi, who now possessed a curved sword and a shield, Malik remembered that he was in the unseen world and created a sword of his own from the air.  
  
Slowly, he mounted his charge and prepared for the battle that was immenant. From atop the great dragon, Malik could see the face of the girl that had been there when he awoke at Ryou's apartment that morning. With the soulbond between dragon and rider, Malik urged Orith forward a step at the site of that girl, the part of his soul that would jump into the midst of the demons alone to save her, taking over.  
  
Slowly at first, then at full speed, somewhat like a boulder rolling down a hill, the seven demons came at them, leaving Tea paralyzed with fear. Shadi was the first to meet their charge, raising his sword high. The wolf demon met him snarling and slavering. The first stroke of Shadi's sword was caught in the jaws of one head while the other fought madly to bight the Egyptian's hand off.  
  
Isis had seen Shadi forge the sword he had by merely concentrating. Not knowing how to use a sword, however, made it impossible for Isis to use that method of combat. She was thinking about how she could fight when the dragonlike demon charged her.  
  
Having overshot by about twenty feet, the spectre turned around to attack again. When it began to run, so did Isis. Right before the feared collision, Isis jumped to one side to watch the hydra skid off and turn around once more. After so long it would have to run out of energy, and then she could strike.  
  
Yami's gryffon took flight at the first sign of battle, and was soaring above the field. The Pharaoh saw Shadi struggling with the wolf demon. In the heat of the battle, he had forgotten all else. As the gryffon flapped in midair Yami spotted the mutilated horse galloping towards Shadi's back. Spurring his mount down, Yami centered his gaze on the bloody entrails dragging in the dust.  
  
The two headed wolf released it's grip on the robed man's arm and watched as he staggered back, bleeding and screaming. It saw the horse coming up behind him. Grinning in an evil manner, the two heads howled and snapped in victory. Slumping, Shadi turned around just in time to see the teeth of the giant horse spirit open in horror as Yami's gryffon caught the intestines that had been dragging behind it and dragged it off course.  
  
Sensing the opportunity, Shadi turned around with the fluid motions of a viper striking, and plunged his Arabic sword into the surprised wolf's chest. He rammed the point through the heart and lungs and liver and out near the spinal cord, bravely ignoring the snapping heads and flailing claws. Finally, the huge body went limp and collapsed, pinning Shadi underneath it's bulk.  
  
Using the last of his strength, the Egyptian struggled from beneath the suffocating weight of the beast and propped his head against it's rib cage. There was no other way he could keep it up. All of his life seemed to have been spent in that last battle. He was a MD and could tell that the collapsing beast had broken quite a few bones, he could've realized that without the degree.  
  
Absently, he wiped some of the thick liquid from his hands onto his robes. Why were his hands so sticky? Why was it so hard for him to move? The man wished that there was not so much noise in the air, and the sounds of the battle obediently faded into the distance. The stormy sky and the desert blurred. Shadi knew what was happening, and grasped the melinium key around his neck with both hands as darkness overtook him.  
  
Yami fought to stay on top of his mount as the huge gryffon methodically dismantled the thrashing horse demon. The razor sharp claws tearing at the dark flesh and the shrill cries from the eagle's beak were enough to make almost anyone sick. Yami, however, had been witness to many battles, thusly the scene did not bother him. The tomb robber was no where to be seen, probably ran off, thought the Pharaoh.  
  
Before the mass of blood and hair at the feet of the gryffon completely stopped twitching, it lifted itself into the air once more, to search for where else the duo might be needed.  
  
Malik gripped the two horns on Orith's head for all he was worth. He had simply held on and endured being bitten by snakes and rats while the dragon dispatched of the beast that resembled a toad. As each droplet of blood fell, he remembered his friend's taught face, his last words, everything about that knight, and it was hard for him. He turned his head as the great serpent dodged an attack by the flaming beast, and prepared to die at last as the serpent ran at full speed into the circle of flames.  
  
Isis used one hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead as she watched the hydra run towards her for what seemed like the hundredth time. Only this time, there was something different in it's gait. As it reached her, the creature leaped into the air. When it landed, Isis was on top of it, quicksilver dagger flashing each time it was removed from the scaly hide.  
  
The steel hit again and again, rupturing blood vessels, cracking vertebrae, puncturing organs. Isis ignored the random head that reached back to bite her, she ignored everything but the motion of the dagger. For all she knew or cared, there was no longer an Isis Ishtal, there never had been. She was the present, she was the spirit of battle. The Egyptian woman did not stop her merciless attack until the huge beast had uttered one final, shuddering breath, and collapsed.  
  
Marik opened his eyes when he realized that he wasn't being roasted alive, when the adrenaline running through his veins had subsided enough to reveal that his skin wasn't crisping, that his hair wasn't aflame, that his eyes weren't melting, his organs weren't exploding. He had envisioned all of these things happening to him in that horrible moment before Orith had plunged into the flame. After regaining his senses enough to look and see why he wasn't dead, Malik noticed that Orith had a plan. The great dragon's gigantic wings were beating back the flames, creating a safe area for it's rider.  
  
Orith's gigantic jaws snapped madly at the disjointed beast in the center of the flames, his rider not fully grasping what had happened. If he could clear a path through the fire, Malik could stab the creature through the heart. A great pulsing orb of God knows what throbbed incessantly inside an open ribcage, and the repulsive light sent out by each wave shone through at the various places where the skin had been worn down by centuries in Hell.  
  
The Egyptian finally realized what he must do. Orith could only keep the void of air clear of attacks for so long. The flames had engulfed the world behind him, before him, and all around. He had found his sister, he had found the missing half of his soul, he had no reason that he had to continue living. In the eerie shadows created by the yellow flames, Malik gathered all his courage and, jumping off Orith's back, did something more courageous than he thought he ever could.  
  
Yami turned his head sharply when a large boom sounded to his left. He had been in a standoff with the ice demon for what seemed like forever, while the dragon and the slave were fighting with the flame creature. It appeared that the demon had won.  
  
Yami hated that Malik had lost, the dragon would die as he did, but nevertheless he was grateful for the explosion. The Pharaoh hadn't been able to get near the bird because of the frost surrounding it, but the sudden flames gave him the only opening he would ever have.  
  
Spurring his mount forward, the spirit said a small prayer to an obscure god, mabey one of the Egyptian's, mabey Allah, mabey The Lord our God and his son Christ. The ancient man prayed that he might succeed, for the fate of those unborn was to be determined by those long dead.  
  
Tea looked around like a scared rabbit. All of the strange creatures seemed to be either dead or absorbed in battle. As quickly as she could on the shifting sands, the girl ran to where she had last seen the man that brought her here. Half climbing, half diving over the huge carcass of the wolf, Tea screamed.  
  
The blood covered face that stared back at her was at peace, but it was still frightening. Just as the panicked schoolgirl's screams died down, she heard a snarling behind her.  
  
Diving forward out of fear, and some primal instinct waiting deep within every soul, Tea grabbed the sword that Shadi had been holding and looked back. Where she had been standing, two primordial hands were trying to free a long pike from between the wolf's ribs.  
  
Just as Tea had come to believe that someone would come to help her before the demon could free it's weapon, a ripping sound cracked through the dry, desert air. Blood splattered everywhere and the demon rushed her. Holding the curved, Arabic blade in front of her, Tea wished with all her might that she was somewhere else.  
  
Yami's body convulsed and shivered continuously. He had tried to stab the bird's heart a myriad of times, but it was coated in mud from the ascension of the banks of the River Styx. Ice encrusted the feathers of the gryffon, and the tips of Yami's fingers had turned purple. The Pharaoh blinked frozen eyes and wiped beads of ice from his forehead. There was only one possibility of victory in the battle he was fighting and, no matter what the cost, the Pharaoh had to take it.  
  
Yami gathered the last of his strength and lunged from his mount to the neck of the bird. Using frozen legs to grip the neck of the strange beast, the man stabbed madly, trying to find one place where ice would not deflect his blows. After he had exhausted all of his strength and lost his will, the gigantic head turned around, as if to gloat, and aimed to knock the king to his death.  
  
At that moment something sparked inside Yami's soul. There had always been a certain invincibility to the Pharaoh, and it would not fail him even in his darkest hour. Just as the beak neared his chest, numb fingers tightened on an ice covered dagger and a spirit somewhere outside Yami's frozen and broken body guided his arm forward and forced the blade through the glassy eye of the demon, and through the skull.  
  
As he felt the knife crack the skull of the gigantic bird, all the mist evaporated, and he could see clearly again. Somewhere a shrill, dying shriek sounded, and he fell. His used body thudded to the ground, and brittle bones were crushed by the fall and pressure of being pinned under the gigantic, crane like body. Faded, violet eyes fluttered open one last time.  
  
Instead of seeing the battle as it was, the ancient king saw the desert landscape as it had been. Great Pyramids stood sentinel over him, and the reeds and rushes of the Nile brushed his face, the clear waters beckoned him. The mud beneath his feet crawled with life, nothing undesireable. A mouse would scurry along, a cobra would wait for it, a baby crocidile would sneak out of the roots and rushes. He was at home, dressed as a Pharaoh again.  
  
Yami had never seen this stretch of the river before, and it was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. As the sun shone down on his back, he walked onward, wading into the crystalline waters.  
  
Bakura's eyes fluttered open. The last thing he remembered was the seven demons emerging from a rift in the fabric of existence. Getting to his feet, the robber trotted as quickly as possible over the small dune that had kept him from being seen during the battle.  
  
He had seen death in his life, and brutality, so the battle scene layed out before him was nothing new. The conflict that drew his attention was Tea's. Bakura watched as a girl he didn't know, wielding a sword that she would more likely stab herself with than the enemy, hold the blade in front of her, and disappear just as the ape reached her. The robber could swear that there were sky blue wings emerging from the child's shoulder blades.  
  
"HEY YOU!!!" He screamed at the top of his voice. "Fight me, you lumbering Neanderthal!!!" Bakura panted and watched in horror as the beast, which was obviously more intelligent than he had thought, turned back and began to attack Tea once more.  
  
Knowing that he had to save the winged figure, Bakura thought about the risk to his own life. There was a great chance that he would not live beyond the hour. The ancient thief closed his eyes and thought of the Hart in the ancient Forest. He thought of all the trees that had been hacked down, all the wolves that were hunted, all the corruption that tried to worm it's way into the innocence of nature. He was a creature of the old world, and it was fitting that he die with it. Bakura screamed the war cry of the creatures, a noise that very few have heard, none of them living.  
  
Tea watched in surprise as a gigantic white stag appeared at the top of a dune behind the creature attacking her. It had silver antlers that spread out across the darkened sky. Blue, tear filled, eyes gazed into nothingness, remembering the most beautiful thing they had ever seen, only to return to the present. Her own eyes widened as the hart reared up on two legs, opened it's mouth, and released a shriek that would drive a banshee to madness. It was more beautiful than any song Tea had ever heard. Then the guardian of the forest charged.  
  
Tea shut her eyes as the stag met her attacker. She didn't watch as the silver horns gored and ripped the flesh. She didn't watch as glasslike hooves broke bones and crushed organs. She didn't watch as, in the finishing move, the stag stood on it's hind legs and came down on the already shattered ribcage, crushing the demon's equivalent to a heart. When she opened her eyes, everything was quiet, and a very shaken and bloody Bakura was standing in front of her. 


	11. The Jordan is Waiting

Chapter Eleven: The Jordan is Waiting  
  
Tea ran over to where Yami lay pinned under the giant bird. She brushed the ice off of his forehead. He had saved her life so many times, and now there was nothing she could do to save his. Isis was standing tall behind her, observing the body, knowing the truth and not wanting to be the one to tell it. She looked up when she heard Bakura a few feet to her left, dragging Malik. Isis gasped and hurried to where her brother was. Malik looked up at Isis with his lavender eyes, no longer frightening or frightened, but at peace. His hair was frayed and blood fell in a steady stream from his lips, and Isis knew at once that her brother was dying. ".isis.?" The cracked lips fumbled over the word, and Malik's sister held back her tears. "Don't worry. You will be all right. You saved the day. Don't worry little brother. You are here and I am here and that is all that matters." Isis got up slowly, and walked behind her little brother's head. Malik heard his sister singing. One of the Egyptian hymns they had learned as children. Her voice sounded far off yet beautiful. Turning his head to the side, Malik blinked his eyes against the darkness that was swallowing the edges of his vision. Kneeling at his side was an angel. The same one he had seen that day in Egypt. Her brown hair flew about her face, large blue eyes, blinked away tears, and two sky blue wings emerged from her shoulder blades. He closed his eyes a final time and listened to his sister's sad voice carry the wonderful melody of the Egyptian hymn in his native language. Why was everyone so sad looking? As Malik's final breath left his body, Orith shrieked as loud as he could, and everyone turned their heads. The great, horned head twisted to a breaking point on the creature's massive neck. Launching into the air and flying haphazardly skyward, the great dragon screamed. It was the most horrifying sound that could escape a living creature. Reaching the peak of his flight, Orith turned and began to rocket downward. Building all the speed that he could, the roaring serpent crashed, head first, into the Earth. With one final motion that waved from the long neck, to the tip of his tail, Orith, son of Canith, son of Baranth the First Dragon died. When Malik opened his eyes, he saw before him, what he had always wanted to see. The Nile river flowed along, reeds swaying in the wind. The waters were cold and beautiful, and the Pyramids rose before him. Not the decayed structures that he had seen in life, but the newly made wonders. Turning around, he saw his sister, with tears in her eyes, the thief, and his angel. The Egyptian knew that he must cross the river. He shook the tomb robber's hand, and hugged his sister. Then he turned to the angel. Her beauty was matched only by the moon at night, and her radience by the sun. She already knew anything that he could do or say. Her innocent face showed it. Suddenly, a victory trumpet sounded, and a great black dragon appeared. The serpent's bugle sounded loud and clear and wondrous. The great wings beat as Orith flew over the river. He turned the horned head towards Malik, saying to him in the language of the soul, "I thank you, my soul. I fly to the Wiers of my Fathers, come, you must cross. I shall meet you there. Without any more delay, Malik ran out into the river. The water was refreshing, and it brimmed with life. Fish swam about and the life of Africa surrounded it. As he reached the far shore, Malik's hands began to slip on the bank. Just as he thought he might lose his grip, two hands reached down to help him up. Malik looked at Shadi and Yami as they helped him up. Why were they here? What had happened to them? Before Malik's mind could question things, Yami took off the headdress worn by pharaohs and placed on the younger Egyptian's head.  
"Malik," Said Yami "Your deeds in life have earned you many treasures here." As the golden ornament touched his head, Malik looked around himself. There were countless spirits that seemed to emerge from the Earth and Air around him. All of them were clapping, welcoming the newcomers. They were all what they could not be in life. Free, beautiful, rich, happy, full, loving. Every tree that was ever felled, and every animal that was ever shot, shone on the landscape. Orith flapped his great wings and trumpeted of glory, of Heaven, of God, of all that was ever pure and good.  
Translated from Arabic, Malik means master, king, pharaoh, or ruler. He smiled. Not his old, sarcastic and malicious smile, but a new, happy and joyful one. He had always wanted to be respected, and appreciated like a king, and now he finally could be. 


End file.
